


Sleep

by plain_jane08 (awolfling)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 05:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awolfling/pseuds/plain_jane08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt at [info]sherlockbbc_fic. "I'd like to read some gratuitous sleeping fic. Long descriptions of warm, snuggly boys spooning up and falling asleep. Hands splayed on bellies and noses pressed into hair. Heavy blankets and old, soft t-shirts. Something that captures how a nice-smelling person will always, always smell a million times nicer when they're toasty and warm."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep

John is always in bed first. Whether it’s because he’s the only one of them that has regular working hours, or because he’s just the type of person who likes to have a bedtime doesn’t matter. What matters is that by the time Lestrade gets in John is already toasty warm and languid with sleep. He curls around Lestrade with a satisfied sigh, some times more awake than others, and Lestrade kisses the top of John’s head, inhaling his scent as he does. Lestrade can’t find the words to describe what John smells like. Sure, Lestrade can smell his shampoo and his deodorant, but underneath that he’s both sweet and musky at the same time and those words don’t even begin to approach how wonderful he smells.   
  
John’s always unnaturally warm and Lestrade loves to pull his sleep shirt up and rest his hand on John’s lower back where it almost burns he’s so hot. Sometimes Lestrade will just let his hand rest there, and other times John will snuffle against him and nudge him until Lestrade’s hand rests on John’s bum. There’s rarely an attempt to take it further, sexually, at that point, not when John’s already mostly asleep and Lestrade is bone tired and aching with exhaustion, but it’s an oddly comforting position for both of them, to cradle and be cradled.   
  
There are times when Sherlock doesn’t come to bed at all, and although it’s common, John and Lestrade still worry about him and every now and then they’ll try and coax him into bed. They don’t always succeed but when they do the victory is savoured. When Sherlock does come to bed it’s usually later than Lestrade. Sometimes John and Lestrade are already asleep, sometimes they’re just dozing, revelling in each other’s company. Sherlock slips in behind John and wraps himself around him, trapping Lestrade’s hand between them. Sherlock slips a hand around to rest on John’s stomach and his fingers immediately start stroking the soft flesh there and his knuckles brush Lestrade’s hip.  
  
Lestrade and John are already warmed up and Sherlock is surrounded by that lovely masculine smell of new sweat permeating through their deodorants. It _smells_ warm and comforting and exactly like home and Sherlock’s long given up wondering how a smell can be so linked to emotions. This is the place where his brain can take a break for a while, he doesn’t have to be on guard with John and Lestrade, he can just be. And just being involves two warm bodies beside his own, two extra sets of breath, one slightly faster than the other, old pyjamas that are nearly threadbare but too comfortable to throw away, soft skin and course hair, warmth and love held in by a heavy duvet and an extra blanket or two in winter. Sherlock doesn’t mind sleeping so much when it’s with them, the only two men in the world that have the power to make him feel comfortable and at ease.   
  
John generally murmurs something but settles when Sherlock presses a kiss to his neck and then Sherlock leans over to kiss Lestrade, just a peck on the lips. It’s become a ritual for Sherlock to do that, he needs to feel close to both of them, even if John’s in the middle.  
  
Sometimes Sherlock tries to stay awake so that he doesn’t lose a second of the closeness he feels. He’s documented Lestrade’s soft snores and the things John talks about in his sleep (mostly nonsense, but sometimes he’s clearly dreaming about Afghanistan), he’s watched them through the night, seen the small twitches of too relaxed limbs and that although Lestrade often falls asleep on his back he wakes up on his side, John’s arms wrapped tightly around him. But all too often Sherlock is lulled to sleep by their steady breathing and pleasantly hot bodies.  
  
One day Sherlock will shyly ask if he can sleep in the middle for once, and John and Lestrade will smile and nod and exchange a proud glance when Sherlock isn’t looking. They’ll cuddle up next to him, both holding him, keeping him safely cocooned between them and Sherlock will have the best nights sleep he’s ever had; surrounded by their feel and smell and love and for once he won’t wake up first and John and Lestrade will kiss him awake with sleep softened lips.


End file.
